


Easy

by professionalyoungwoman



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Library, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Rating May Change, Slowish burn?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-10
Updated: 2019-09-27
Packaged: 2020-08-14 11:07:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20191258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/professionalyoungwoman/pseuds/professionalyoungwoman
Summary: Ryan slides his glasses onto his face, and as his eyes focus on the figure in front of him, he reconsiders the idea that he's woken up from his dream, and ponders the thought that he's spent so much time in the library that he's actually having extremely vivid and detailed dreams about it. He considers this theory with increasing validity because there's a person in front of Ryan who could only be someone he dreamed up.***Ryan and Shane meet in their university library, become each other's support systems in the most annoying way possible, and fall in love.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Ok y'all. This is literally the second time I've ever written fic and the first time I've ever written for the BFU fandom! I've become deeply invested in this fandom in the last few months and couldn't get this idea out of my head so decided to write it! Go easy on me for I am baby. Comments and feedback would be greatly appreciated!  
No beta so any and all mistakes are mine.

Ryan was so incredibly tired. Achingly tired, tired to the point where he hardly felt human anymore, hardly felt himself anymore. He was the type to commit full-bodily to everything he did, so it's no ones fault other than his own that he's run himself so deeply into the ground that he can barely see the light of day anymore. Speaking of the light of day, Ryan can't actually remember the last time he saw the light of day. 

For the last few months, he'd spent the vast majority of his time in his university’s library, elbows deep in work for his classes. Though barely at the beginning of his senior year, Ryan had made an early pact with himself that he would embrace the finality of his remaining time here wholeheartedly. At the moment, this unfortunately meant spending every waking moment attempting to soak up every bit of knowledge he possibly could. Ryan knew for a fact that as soon as he graduated, the closest he would get to a book would probably be reading take out menus, and his tuition was also fucking expensive, so he was going to fill his head with as much knowledge as he possibly could, even if it fucking killed him. He endeavoured to be a sponge, a vessel for learning, the most scholarlyest scholar to ever scholar. Ryan's overtired brain conjured up the image of himself sitting at the end of a table full of books, a napkin tied around his neck, fork and knife in hand, licking his lips before the entire table lifted up and the books spilled neatly into his comically massive mouth. He giggled out loud, forgetting he was in the quiet section of the library, forgetting he was sitting by himself and probably looked fucking insane, and at least twenty other students immediately glared at him, heads whipping around from all corners of the library, one girl even going so far as to shush him. Ryan thinks the librarian is probably overpaid, considering she doesn't need to lift a finger to maintain order in the library with this level of student-based grassroots policing. 

If Ryan's being honest with himself and everyone around him though, he really isn't accomplishing much studying at all. He had decided to treat himself last night to a marathon of horror movies and popcorn eating with his housemates, a marathon that left him staring blankly at the ceiling of his bedroom for hours while he contemplated every creak and whoosh heard throughout the house. He had actually made himself go to sleep with a full bladder, not wanting to face the long, dark, and cold walk to the bathroom, as well as the possibility that a demon was lurking under his bed, ready to snatch his ankles and feast on his flesh the second his body emerged from under his blankets. 

On top of his exhaustion from last night, he had been fucking around aimlessly on his phone for the better part of the last hour, too tired to get any work done but also too guilty to leave the library without getting any work done. Ryan reasoned with himself that if he was at least in the library, that was closer to accomplishing something than it was to accomplishing nothing. Maybe he could absorb knowledge through osmosis, like if he breathed in the fumes of old books and stale dust for long enough something, anything would stick in his sluggish brain. Feeling self satisfied, he continued perusing Twitter, his tired eyes not really even seeing what was in front of them, not really even absorbing anything. He was slumped over the table, arms forming a cradle for his head to rest on while he looked crookedly at his phone. His glasses had long been discarded to the side, sitting on top of pages of notes he had no intention of reviewing anytime soon. Really, Ryan mused, he was entirely too comfortable considering he was in the library, and this thought quirks a content smile on his face as his heavy eyes slowly blink shut. 

Ryan doesn't even really register that he's fallen asleep until he starts dreaming about a herd of demonic ghosts chasing him through a maze made out of books, his only weapon of defense a giant pencil which gets duller and shorter the more he swings it at the ghost mob behind him. The ghosts aren't even particularly scary; they literally look like sheets with two holes cut out for eyes, but dream logic dictates that he is horrified, and so therefore, he is horrified. Soon enough it's just a nub with an eraser at the end, and just as a ghost snatches at his ankles, Ryan jerks awake. He blearily rubs his face, creased from being smooshed into his hoodie, feeling his clothes stick uncomfortably to his body with sleep sweat. As he takes in his surroundings, he thinks to himself that he must have been out of it for much longer than he would've guessed, as the library around him has nearly cleared out. There's literally only one other person that he can see, sitting a few tables away but essentially directly in front of Ryan, though he distantly registers the background ambient noises of others still in the building.

Ryan slides his glasses onto his face, and as his eyes focus on the figure in front of him, he reconsiders the idea that he's woken up from his dream, and ponders the thought that he's spent so much time in the library that he's actually having extremely vivid and detailed dreams about it. He considers this theory with increasing validity because the person in front of Ryan could only be someone he dreamed up. This man is devastatingly yet strangely handsome; Ryan can clearly tell, even while sitting, that he's very tall, and this would've caught Ryan's eye without even taking into account that he's got such a classically handsome face that the combination of the two makes something flutter in Ryan's stomach. The man’s eyes stand out from his face even from behind a pair of clear framed glasses - his eyes are downturned slightly at the outer corners like he's permanently sleepy, but they're also undoubtedly bright, and the creases around his eyes give him the appearance of being someone who laughs a lot. Ryan quite likes laughing, he thinks distantly and a bit foolishly. The man’s nose is slightly too big to be considered average, but it fits well on him because, well, the man’s got a big head. As Ryan takes it in, his mind flashes back to his earlier thinking about cramming information into his head, and endearingly thinks that this man could cram quite a lot of information into that big ole head. Ryan's eyes dance over the rest of what he can see of this man that's not concealed by the table he's at, and over all decides that yes, he absolutely must still be dreaming. The guy is far too attractive to be sitting in the library by himself at such a late hour on a Saturday night. Ryan subconsciously assigns the word “cryptid” to his hallucination, because the dude is too tall and beautifully otherworldly to actually be a human. 

The real thing that really cements the idea into Ryan’s head that this man is some weirdly hot cryptid that he's dreamed up is the fact that the dude also appears to be eating hot dogs, right in the middle of the library, the library which had very strict rules about eating, very strict rules about eating which were unilaterally enforced. Some students got away with eating small things, like raisins or nuts or granola bars, foods that were virtually odorless and could be concealed at the drop of a hat should the librarian walk by on her rounds. The idea that this guy was getting away with straight up eating multiple hot dogs, dead center in the middle of the library’s quiet zone, was so ridiculous and strange and frankly a little baffling that Ryan must be dreaming. The whole image was far too weird to be anything but a figment of his imagination. 

Ryan's been staring for far too long now, and finally resigns himself to laying his head back down again to try and dream-cept his way out of this weird fantasy he's created for himself. Just before slipping his glasses off again, the hot-weird-hot-dog cryptid-man glances up from the book in front of him, catches Ryan's eyes, and sends an unmistakable and slightly over exaggerated wink Ryan's way. Yup, he thinks, definitely a dream, no fucking way this is real life. He lays his head down, face first in a book, nose smooshed into the pages, and lets his eyes close and prays to himself that when he actually wakes up, his brain is a little bit more on board with the whole rational and sane concept he's been working on. 

Ryan wakes up several hours later to the thud of a book on the tale in front of him, the librarian standing over him with arms crossed and disapproval written all over her face. It's closing time, it's been closing time for a while now, and Ryan's just spent the entirety of his Saturday night sleeping in the library. As he quickly packs his shit up, he glances around the library for any tangible sign of his weird library cryptid, now that Ryan knows for a fact that he's awake, and finds nothing. Definitely a dream then. 

Ryan is forced to either reconsider this theory, or accept that he's actually gone insane, when he sees Weird Library Cryptid again a week later.


	2. Chapter 2

While still completely baffled by the level of detail that his mind had come up with, Ryan had tried to quickly put his strange and weirdly realistic dream behind him. Over the next week, his mind sometimes wistfully wandered back to the tall and unusually handsome man his dreams had conjured up, but he would quickly remind himself that Weird Library Cryptid was really just a dream. 

That night had actually made Ryan realize that he was spending too much time in the library; while he was trying to capitalize on his final year of formal education, Ryan also recognized that this was the last real time in his life that he would have to really and truly enjoy his youth. It was the last year of his life where his ragtag team of friends would all be in the same place, easily accessible to fuck shit up whenever they wanted without facing the consequences of adulthood and real people responsibilities, like jobs and kids and mortgages and, most horrifically, repaying student loans. Ryan would still be 22 when he graduated, which he knew was very young in the grand scheme of life, but the simultaneous thrill and terror of adult freedom felt like it was coming towards him life a freight train. 

So with this new lease on his last year of student life, Ryan had taken a major step back from the amount of time he spent sequestering himself in the library with nothing but his books to keep him company. He had been making the effort to hang out with his friends a lot more, especially TJ, Devon, and Mark. Ryan had met them through Zach, who was a close friend as well as one of his housemates; the four of them all studied film production together, meaning they all had classes together, and saw each other a considerable amount more. Ryan, on the other hand, was studying criminology, and didn't really have many people who he would consider close friends within his degree. Zach and Ryan obviously lived together, so while they got to spend a decent amount of time with each other, Ryan missed out on a lot of opportunities for group bonding due to their differing class schedules. 

Ryan was also trying to give himself more availability to enjoy alone time. While both his internal anxieties and natural outgoing nature meant he genuinely enjoyed spending the vast majority of his time surrounded by people, Ryan also recognized that he had been working himself into the ground. The fact that he had spent an entire night sleeping in the library genuinely worried him a little. Not because he cared about appropriate library decorum, he really didn't give a shit about that, but because he really could barely keep his eyes open that night, driven to the point of exhaustion where he was nearly hysterical. Or actually hysterical, if his weird feverish dreams were any indication. 

That was a week ago though, and tonight Ryan certainly felt much more well rested as he settled in to his spot in the quiet zone of the library. Though he felt like a square for spending every weekend in the library, it had felt unavoidable that night. Zach was having some friends over, including his close pal Eugene, who oozed such strong homoerotic energy that while not even really Ryan's type, he felt like he immediately had to extract himself from the situation before embarrassing himself in his own home. 

Ryan also genuinely enjoyed his studies; he had chosen criminology for a reason, and the reason was that he was enthralled by true crime. While his friends almost always shot him strange looks for his obsessions with serial killers and murders and mob business, Ryan couldn't help himself. He ate that shit up. It actually was almost a turn on for him when he was neck deep in a cold case and some oddly specific and seemingly unrelated detail would click into place to form the basis of a coherent theory, a theory he could stand proudly behind. 

A couple hours later, however, Ryan wasn't quite feeling the same energy to study as he was when he had first made his way into the library. While he loved research, it was sometimes very tedious, and he had been fruitlessly picking through old case files on the Sodder children's abduction for a while now with seemingly no real work to show for it. Before he knew it, the quiet and sleepy energy of the library at night had Ryan drifting off again, face first into his notes. 

Not long after, he drifted back into a semi-state of consciousness, a crick in his neck giving him a distinct lack of satisfaction from his impromptu nap. Ryan sat up slowly, rubbing his neck and rolling his head with his eyes still closed in an attempt to inspire the relaxed feeling he usually aimed to achieve from naps. As his body woke up, he distantly registered the smell of popcorn, and furrowing his eyebrows, let his eyes drift open.

Weird Library Cryptid was there again. Ryan nearly cursed out loud; he really thought he had been taking better care of himself. He really thought that the last week of rest and relaxation had fortified the walls of his weak mind against hot but frankly peculiar hallucinations. Apparently not. 

Still though, Ryan was going to enjoy the hallucination for what it was worth. His mind really had conjured up a hottie, and in this iteration said hottie was sitting across the library, in the same spot as before, but now he was eating popcorn instead of hot dogs. Ryan loved popcorn. Like, really and truly loved it, and the fact that the guy was sitting there eating his favorite food really cemented the idea in his head that Ryan was truly imagining things. 

The man was wearing the same clear framed glasses but this time Ryan's mind had dressed him in a red flannel shirt that looks soft even from across the room. He looked like a hot European hipster lumberjack, and Ryan wanted to take him on a hike but also wanted to walk across the room and curl up against his large frame and sit on his lap and eat popcorn with him endlessly. The worst part was, the guy was staring back at Ryan, his bright eyes flickering over Ryan's body, a bemused but intrigued expression on his face. One long fingered hand lifted to wave slowly at Ryan.

Ok, that was officially enough. Ryan quickly packed up his shit, shoving books and notes haphazardly into his bag in a disorganized mess that he knew he would regret later as he hightailed it out of the library. 

***

The worst part of this sexy hallucination that Ryan conjured up for himself was that he started seeing it outside of the confines of the library. He'd be walking across campus to the mess hall and distantly see the figure of a man who was criminally tall, his long legs stretching on for miles as he strode off to do whatever it is that cryptids do with their free time.

One time Ryan was standing in line at the on-campus coffee shop when the guy appeared literally right behind him, towering over Ryan in a way that was entirely too sexy and appealing for a hallucination, especially one that was happening at 8:00 in the morning in public. 

Once, while hanging out with a group of friends, Ryan had seen Weird Library Cryptid from a distance. Adrenaline rushed in his ears, and before he could stop himself, he had gripped TJ’s arm so tightly that it made his own hand ache.

“Do you see that guy over there? The ridiculously tall and hot one?” Ryan asked frantically, pointing and gesticulating while looking wildly back and forth between TJ and the hallucination. Gingerly removing Ryan's vice grip from his arm, TJ gave him a truly perplexed look. “What? What are you even saying? What guy?” 

Ryan instantly deflated, shaking his head and mumbling some half coherent excuse. This confirmed what he already knew but apparently hadn't fully accepted until just then; the guy, the cryptid, the strange dream man that Ryan had been obsessing over recently, really was just a dream. 

It had occurred to Ryan once or twice that his mind had really created such an odd rendering of a man that he had found so attractive that his brain immediately categorized the image as a hallucination. Though height had definitely always been a turn on for him, Ryan had thought that his ideal dream man would've been more...romantic novel hot. The kind of Fabio-esque man that would use his rippling muscles to scoop Ryan off his feet and onto the back of a horse before riding off into the sunset to have absolutely bonkers sex until the sun rose. The kind of man that featured heavily in the telenovelas he and his abuela had religiously watched when he was younger, before he realized he wasn't watching for the drama and was really watching for the hotties. 

Weird Library Cryptid was just...not that. He was tall, yes, but he wasn't particularly built. If Ryan had to put a name to his body type, he probably would've settled on dancer’s body, but more than anything the guy just looked like he was metabolically blessed enough to eat whatever he wanted while never exercising and somehow maintaining a slim figure. His skin was pale, pale considering the fact that they were in Southern California, where even the whitest of white people managed to catch some kind of tan. When Ryan looked at dream man's face, all of his features didn't really make sense. 

But he was undeniably the most attractive thing Ryan had ever set eyes on. Ryan wanted to lock him in his shitty student room and climb him like a tree. He wanted to stuff his long body into the passenger seat of his car and take him on a road trip around America so they could forget everything except for the open road and the feel of each other. He wanted to handcuff them together and cover his long body in love bites so that it became more than clear to the rest of the world that this man was his. He wanted this man to be real, although he supposed he was thankful that he wasn't, because what if a Ryan met him and he was just some douche? 

So Ryan was content to just stare longingly at his hallucination, sitting across the library from him every night while pretending to study and wishfully think of kissing the taste of popcorn off of his lips. 

That is, until Ryan's brain really lost the plot and his mind went full tilt into the depths of this hallucination. 

One night, in the library, late enough that the building was close to empty, while hopelessly trying to finish a report on the Isdal Woman that he had procrastinated on far too long, a shadow fell across his notes. Ryan looked up, and up, and up, before his eyes finally locked on Weird Library Cryptid’s, and he audibly gulped. The man helped himself to the seat across from Ryan, smirking in an amused sort of way that did nothing to stop the pounding of Ryan's heart in his chest. 

“Hi,” the cryptid said softly, low in order to not bring attention from any of the few people left in the library. God, even his voice was attractive.

“Hi,” Ryan croaked out weakly, his ears burning in embarrassment. God, he was speaking to his hallucination now. He really was crazy. Maybe he should have looked into therapy the first time he had this hallucination, long before he let it get to this point.

“So I was wondering...why do you always look at me like that?” The man asked, smirk still present on his face, and eyes sparkling. That confused Ryan more than anything, “What do you mean? How do I look at you?” And wow, he was fully committing to this hallucination. 

“You look at me like I'm not really there. Like, you're looking at me but you're also not really seeing me? Like, have you ever seen those videos of babies getting glasses for the first time, and before they put the glasses on the baby you can tell that the baby is just like, not really seeing anything at all? Eyes all unfocused and shit.” 

“Um...well...I mean,” Ryan thought distantly to a ghost hunting documentary he had watched the other week, where they had spoken about the fact that you're not meant to mention the fact that the ghost in question is dead in case they don't know that they're dead and it upsets them. He always thought that was just a play off of The Sixth Sense, but now he was wondering if the same rule applied to hallucinations. 

Fuck it, he thought. It was his hallucination to speak to as he pleased. “Maybe I look at you like you're not really there because you're not really there? I mean, you're a hallucination, right? You're a weirdly hot cryptid that I fever dreamed up, like, a month ago.”

At this, the man raises both eyebrows, his lips quirking up into a smile that suggests to Ryan that his answer was far better than anything he could've ever imagined. His hands pat himself down the length of his body, as if checking to see if he's solid or not. 

Just then, a thought occurred to Ryan. What if...what if TJ had just not seen him that day? What if he wasn't hallucinating after all? What if Ryan had just spent the last few weeks of his life being accidentally but incredibly rude to an actual human being because he somehow his brain had thought “beautifully weird and hot cryptid” was more likely than “beautifully weird and hot human”?

“Well, that's certainly news to me,” the man says finally, smile still on his face. “Care to explain why you think I'm a cryptid?” 

Well, Ryan thinks to himself, in for a penny, in for a pound. He's in far too deep, he may as well just commit.

“Well...you're just like, way too hot to be a person, but in a weirdly beautiful way? Like, I really didn't think that humans came in this model. Or at least that's what I told myself. Also the first time I saw you I was more than half asleep and you were eating hot dogs in the library? So, like, yeah, obviously not a real person. Real people don't do shit like that,” Ryan rambles off, feeling more and more blood rush to his face because he knows exactly how crazy and insulting and obsessed he sounds right now. 

“Also, you're definitely tall enough to be related to Bigfoot, so there is that,” he tacks this on at the end with a shrug, in some piss poor attempt to play the whole thing off as a joke. 

Unexpectedly, instead of immediately labeling Ryan as the actual crazy and rude person he is, the man just lights the fuck up. A hand flies to his face to cover his mouth as half-choked off wheezing laughs leave his body, his whole frame shaking from trying to keep his laughter at an appropriate level for the library. It's the kind of laugh that's infectious, and Ryan can't help but to wheeze silently along, laughing at his own stupidity.

When the man finally calms down, there's still an undeniable brightness in his eyes, and it makes Ryan's stomach twist in a nervous, hopeful way. 

“I'm going to choose to take all that as a compliment, especially coming from someone who looks as good as you. You're really one to talk though, considering you're short enough to be related to Santa’s elves,” the guy, who Ryan is almost certain now isn't a hallucination, grins across the table at him. “And I'm going to do you a favor and try to forget that you thought ‘weirdly hot cryptid hallucination’ was a more rational theory than ‘weirdly tall human with an affinity for late night library snacking’.” 

There's about a million things Ryan wants to say in response to this. Ryan wants to argue that he's actually a perfectly average height, thank you very much; he wants to preen under the fact that it was just implied that this mystery man might also find Ryan attractive; Ryan wants to backtrack the last part of his statement and mention that he left out the ‘beautifully weird and hot’ bit when describing himself. Overall though, he gets too caught up in the fact that his fears were completely groundless: this guy is not just some douche. He might end up being just as amazing as Ryan hoped he would be.

So he settles instead on just laughing and saying, “I'm Ryan, by the way,” extending his hand across the table with a smile he knows is too big splitting across his face. The man takes his hand firmly, smiling just as widely back.

“I'm Shane.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo here's another little update for y'all! I really struggled at first with this one cause I know exactly where the story is going but didn't know how to get there without rushing it. Im actually so happy with how this chapter turned out though and I hope you guys enjoy it!

And just like that, Shane had somehow become an irrevocable part of Ryan's life. 

This was actually somewhat surprising to Ryan, considering how busy he was in his day to day life. His time was spread pretty thin due to the amount of investment he gave to his classes. The rest of his energy went towards maintaining both his pre-existing friendships as well as his own sanity. All things considered, he hadn't found himself with the social energy required to make new friends since the beginning of the school year. Ryan couldn't even remember the last time he went to the gym, let alone out to a bar or social gathering. 

A voice in the back of his head that sounded suspiciously like his mother whispered in the back of his head that you made time for the things that were important to you, but he tried to push that thought away every time it niggled at the back of his mind. 

But really, against all odds, Shane really had wiggled his way into Ryan's life, and there was something so easy about it that Ryan almost didn't even notice any additional strain on his already full schedule. They met up nearly every other day in the library, sometimes sitting in the quiet zone, more often sitting together on the third floor, which was designated as group study, where they were able to chat to each other more freely. 

It was there that he and Shane gradually got to know each other more and more. Shane wasn't a California native, which explained his pale skin despite the constant L.A. sun. He was originally from a small city called Schaumberg, which didn't boast much else apart from small town American charm, but Ryan could tell from the way he spoke about it that he missed it. Shane was a history major, and Ryan only needed to hear one rant about the “origin story” of Moby Dick to know he fucking loved it - like, seriously, his eyes lit up like he had won the lottery. Shane had transferred to Chapman last year, about halfway through his degree, because the university had a remarkably extensive archive of unpublished primary sources from just about every American war. 

The history degree also explained why Shane was able to get away with blatantly disregarding the library's strict no eating policy. He had spent a lot of time with both the librarian and the university archivist, pouring over countless historical texts which even the most devout history majors hadn't touched in years, so they had both become a little soft on him. 

Ryan had quickly learned that this applied strictly to Shane and Shane alone; there had been multiple occasions where he had attempted to share some of Shane's snacks, only for the librarian to immediately descend on him with such a harshly pinched and disapproving face that Ryan almost had to remove himself entirely from the library from embarrassment. Every time, Shane sat there munching away innocently, preening over a truly ridiculous assortment of foodstuffs. It pissed Ryan off to no end. 

Regardless of whether or not Shane had a free pass on eating in the library, Ryan maintained that it was still really fucking weird to eat hot dogs as a late night study snack. He and Shane had argued over that one for an entire evening, neither of them accomplishing a single piece of class work. 

Despite how weird Shane could be sometimes, Ryan would be lying to himself if he said he wasn't just as attracted to Shane's personality as he was to his looks; they got on like a house on fire, their humor playing perfectly off each other’s to lead to some of the most hilarious conversations Ryan had ever had. It was frankly shocking to him that he was able to converse with someone who he really had just met so easily, but he didn't question it too much. He was too busy having the time of his life. 

Ryan was definitely crushing, and he was crushing hard. His overall mood improvement from time spent with Shane was actually so noticeable that his friends had begun to comment on it. Even Mark, who remained impassive to nearly all displays of emotions, had teased him relentlessly about Ryan's new found crush. Ryan had tried to play it off like it was nothing, but he knew he wasn't really fooling anybody; he had seen the besotted and happy look on his own face that resulted from an evening spent studying with Shane far too many times to deny it even to himself.

It would have bugged Ryan, how obvious his crush was, if not for the fact that Shane seemed just as interested. If Ryan was interpreting the longing looks and special smiles Shane continually sent his way correctly, then his feelings were definitely reciprocated. It was just, Ryan was determined to do things the right way with Shane. 

He had a bad track record of rushing into relationships far too quickly, only for them to burn out just as fast. Ryan was a very full on person, and he knew this. He was exceedingly high energy, always bouncing from one thing to the next without pause, his body never at rest unless he was asleep. Ryan was also, somehow, simultaneously crushingly cocky yet distressingly unconfident. He was a bit of a people pleaser, and he knew it was very clear to the people around him that he relied heavily on their acceptance of him to carry himself confidently through social situations

Ryan was embarrassingly aware of all of this, but he also knew that over his years at university that he had grown by leaps and bounds. He was much more self assured now, which had strengthened his friendships immensely. It did, however, tend to hold him back when forming new relationships with people, especially romantic relationships. He almost always reverted a little, stepping back into old habits of seeking approval, and this lack of self-assuredness had affected previous romantic relationships especially. Thinking on the matter, Ryan acknowledged it wasn't actually his lack of self-assuredness, but more the fact that his self-consciousness about the whole situation would send him spiraling into an anxious state where he could hardly be himself around his romantic partners. This was another reason why the ease with which Shane slid into his life surprised him: Ryan hardly ever met someone and instantly felt this comfortable. 

Still though, Ryan had decided that he would take things as slow as he needed to with Shane. He could already see that Shane was very special, would be very special to him no matter how he was involved in Ryan's life, and every last intelligent brain cell he had was begging his heart to take it slow, to not fuck this up. 

Besides, if Shane was as special as Ryan thought he was, then they had all the time in the world.

Ryan was suddenly jolted from this train of thought by Shane waving his hand in front of his face, trying to bring Ryan out of the slightly emotional reverie he had obviously been drifting into. Ryan's gaze snapped to Shane's face, who was smirking back at him. “Ground control to Major Tom, are you in there?” 

“Sorry, I got real lost in the sauce for a second,” Ryan said, shaking his head and rubbing his eyes tiredly. They had been in the library for hours now, which was probably why Ryan was drifting into his own head so easily - anything to avoid reading even a single more gruesome detail about some mob murder that he knew full well would never be solved, because, well, it's the mob. 

“Yeah, I could see that,” Shane replied, his smirk getting even bigger, “Why don't we get out of here? I’m pretty wiped, and it's happy hour at the student bar. For the low price of one beer I'll let you try and convince me that ghosts are real for the millionth time.” 

Ryan started packing his shit up, huffing under his breath at Shane. “Ok, but, hear me out: maybe I don't need to convince you that ghosts are real. Maybe you need to convince me that ghosts aren't real. Because in my mind, the fact that ghosts are real is about as irrefutable as the fact that gravity is real. It's just facts.” 

Shane laughed inappropriately loudly at this, shaking his head and opening the door to the library for Ryan, but not before waving farewell to the librarian, who had lifted her head at the sound of Shane's belly laugh. Falling into step as they began the short walk across campus, Shane teasingly bumped his shoulder into Ryan's, grinning down at him and hitching his backpack higher up on his shoulder. 

“The thing is, my dear Ryan, is that the existence of ghosts is not as irrefutable as gravity. The fact that we're not floating up into the sky right now and are instead firmly planted on the ground proves that gravity is real. Where is the proof that ghosts are real?” At this, Ryan made a high pitched crowing noise in indignation, his chest puffing up, ready to remind Shane of the countless amounts of evidence, both scientific and anecdotal, to prove that ghosts are real. Before he could even begin, Shane abruptly stuck his finger dangerously close to Ryan's face, making the shorter man go cross eyed looking at it. 

“And don't you even think about saying any of that ‘it's scientific, hard evidence’ bullshit you always try and pull. I need to see it replicated in a lab by an actual scientist in order for me to consider your evidence anything even resembling scientific,” Shane rose his nose haughtily at this, truly looking like the cat who ate the canary at this, like there was nothing Ryan could possibly say in response to that. 

Ryan just rolled his eyes, shaking his head in disappointment before saying, “Shane. How many times do I need to show you that video I have from the Queen Mary? A certified ghost encounter that I myself was personally there to witness, in real time? It's getting a bit ridiculous at this point, buddy.” 

“Certified? By who? The Ghostbusters? You know that's just a movie, right, Ry?”

They continue bickering back and forth like this until they reach the student bar, which is already playing too loud obnoxious Top 20’s pop music, bright lights pouring out of the front windows. The sound intensifies as Shane moves to pull the door open, and Ryan barely has his foot in the door before he hears his name being screamed from the back of the bar. He whips his head around, eyes landing on Zach, who already looks plastered beyond reason. 

Zach quickly moves to stand on one of the bar chairs, swaying dangerously before TJ grips his knees in an impressive show of drunken reflexes. “Ryan! You're here! And you brought your Sasquatch boyfriend! L’Chaim! Let's do some fucking SHOTS!” 

Ryan instantly flushes at this, groaning audibly and tilting his head back, closing his eyes against the embarrassing spectacle. He feels Shane's hand land on the small of his back, nudging him gently in the direction of his friends, and at that he opens his eyes, looking up at the sight of a familiar smirk on Shane's stupidly smug face. 

Well, Ryan decides, it's going to be a long fucking night.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soo I know it's been a minute but here's another update for y'all! I've been real busy with work and recently celebrating my birthday (holla) so now that that's cooled off I'm hoping to put more chapters out soon! 
> 
> Let me know what you guys think! Also taking prompts on my tumblr @ professionalyoungwoman. Enjoy!

When Ryan woke up, he was startlingly aware of two things before he even opened his eyes.

The first was that he was impressively hungover. His head was pounding, a sharp, repetitive throb that threatened to send Ryan running to the bathroom to vomit the entire contents of his body into the toilet. His eyes felt extraordinarily heavy and dry, and he distantly realized that he had fallen asleep with his contacts in, which would be an absolute bitch of a problem that his hungover mind simply did not want to deal with. 

The second was that Ryan was definitely, certainly, without a doubt, not in his own bed. The already risen sun was falling onto his body from the wrong angle, and the sheets around him felt different, smelt different. The scent of them wasn't bad; it was actually quite pleasant, but it was definitely different. Not unfamiliar, though Ryan didn't know why that was. He was alone at the moment, but he doubted that he had spent the entire night sleeping alone in a bed that wasn't his own.

Almost entirely awake now, a piercing thought struck through Ryan's body that was so clear and urgent his hangover, which was pretty all-encompassing, now felt like a backseat problem. Did he hook up with someone last night? Holy fuck, did he hook up with someone other than Shane right in front of Shane?

Ryan instantly started spiraling, and his stomach clenched with nausea and anxiety as his thoughts came rushing towards him with a clarity that shouldn't be possible considering how monumentally shitty his body was feeling. But maybe that was why his thoughts were so clear; his mind had taken the opportunity to go full tilt into a nervous breakdown while his body was too defenseless to ward off attacks. 

Before he could sink fully into his what-the-fuck moment, the sound of a door opening snatched Ryan out of his thoughts, his head instantly snapping up and eyes flying open to locate the sound. Strangely, Ryan found himself tilting his head backwards to look. He realized that he had been sleeping with his head at the foot of the bed, head towards the door, which meant that he was now looking upside down at Shane, who (thankfully) seemed to be the owner of the mystery bed and room, judging by how confidently he walked in.

A whoosh of relief spread through Ryan, his anxiety fleeing his body so quickly that the effects of his hangover had an opportunity to take hold of him again, with a renewed energy that frankly, in all his years of drinking, Ryan didn't actually think possible. He groaned, closing his eyes and curling up into a ball as he tugged the sheets back over his head. 

Shane laughed, too bright and way too loud for the state that Ryan was in, and he groaned again, burying himself even further into the bed. Ryan felt the bed dip near his head, and the sheets were tugged gently away from his head so that only his eyes were showing, and Ryan begrudgingly opened his eyes to squint up at Shane. Shane was looking at his with this unbearably soft look on his face, his eyes turned into little wrinkly half moons and smiling gently as he uncurled one long finger from where it was gripping the sheets to stroke down the side of Ryan's face.

“Morning, sleeping beauty. How's the hangover treating you?” 

Despite the throbbing in his skull, Ryan couldn't help but smile up at Shane, nuzzling unconsciously into his finger. It really should be criminal for him to look this good when Ryan feels this shit, but there he was, looking friendly and inviting and perfect with a crown of sunshine lighting up his hair. 

“I'm holding in there. Not sure if I'm going to survive, but I've got at least a few hours to live. I will say though, I have absolutely no memory of last night.” 

Shane chuckles again at this, and it's still too loud but Ryan can't bring himself to be mad about it or scold him. “You were pretty spectacularly wasted. Zach and the guys tried to herd you back to your place but you insisted on walking me back to mine, which was very sweet but also confusing because you kept mumbling something about chivalry not being dead while demanding I give you a piggyback ride.” 

Ryan pales as this memory comes rushing back to him in drunken snippets. Fighting off Zach and TJ and making a break for Shane's retreating figure, insisting that it wasn't safe for him to walk home alone even though Shane was obviously a very large and very white man who was visibly capable of getting home safely. The view from Shane's back, how woozy it had made Ryan feel because it was a significantly higher view of the world than he was used to. The touch-memory feeling of all of Ryan's limbs wrapped around Shane's thin body, nuzzling into his neck in a way that was probably entirely inappropriate, and the way Shane's big hands gripped firmly at his thighs to keep him in place.

He's soberingly embarrassed, and his face flushes hot, but he knows there's no use in trying to hide from Shane, especially when the taller man is looking down at Ryan like he's the most precious thing. There's a hint of mocking in his eyes, like Shane's got some teasing remarks already prepared to hit Ryan with when the embarrassment isn't so fresh. 

“The whole ‘chivalry isn't dead’ thing is also why you're the wrong way around on the bed. You said it would be ungentlemanly and you didn't want me to feel taken advantage of, but apparently top’n’tailing it was an acceptable alternative. You fell asleep in like, three seconds flat.” 

Ryan actually can't bear to hold Shane's gaze anymore after hearing this, and groans again in embarrassment, closing his eyes and tilting his head away until it hangs just slightly off the end of the bed. Shane pats Ryan's chest twice, comforting, and says with entirely too much amusement in his voice, “Why don't you go take a shower? I've got some spare clothes that I think will fit your abnormally short but beefy body. And I took the liberty of going and getting breakfast and coffee, ‘cause I like to think I'm a bit of a gentleman myself.” 

Ryan hauls himself up and out of bed after giving himself one last moment to stew in his embarrassment, and let's Shane shove a towel and a small pile of clothes into his arms before stumbling down the hallway to the bathroom. 

The effects of the shower are immediate, and it doesn't make Ryan feel like a new man, but he does feel like at least three-quarters of the man he usually is. Though the shame he feels from his drunken antics last night is still bright, he can't help but to feel slightly pleased with where it's landed him; in Shane's apartment, fresh out of his shower, in his clothes. Ryan pads back down the hallway, opening the door to Shane's room and inviting himself to lay back down next to him in his bed, the right way around this time with his back against the headboard and his side pressed against Shane's. 

While Ryan was showering, he’d laid out the food he must've brought into the room earlier when Ryan was still out of it, and he'd set up a movie for them to watch while they ate. Ryan thought it was Interview with a Vampire, which he was quite pleased with, as it satisfied their shared love of horror and Tom Cruise while not requiring too much of his attention (Ryan figured most of his attention would be going to eating as quickly and as much as possible while indiscreetly trying to cuddle with Shane, but that was neither here more there).

“So I got pancakes and waffles, both with hashbrowns and bacon, ‘cause I didn't know what you'd prefer. To be honest though, I will fight you for the waffles.” 

Ryan's scoffs at this, immediately going for the pancakes, because they are the superior breakfast choice, and he tells Shane as much. They quickly fall back into their familiar banter, the movie playing in the background without either one of them watching a second of it, too caught up in each other to pay it any mind. 

Between sleeping in late to ease his hangover and the way time slips by in the way it always does when Shane is with him, Ryan doesn't even notice that nearly the entire day has gone by. Ryan had absently checked his phone and realized that, despite his wishes to stay plastered to Shane's side all day, he actually did have adult things he probably needed to do. 

“I should probably go, I'm going to see my parents tomorrow and I need to run some errands and get an early night in,” Ryan sounds just as resigned and disappointed as he feels, and looks at Shane, who's giving him this look that simultaneously says ‘never leave’ but also ‘thank you for spending this time with me’. “Thanks for the food, and for taking care of my drunk ass.”

Shane just grins, and shuffles off the bed to collect Ryan's clothes from last night into a bag for him as Ryan gathers up his phone, keys, and wallet. “I'm the one who should be saying thanks, I wouldn't have gotten home safely and with my honor intact if it weren't for you.” He winks over exaggeratedly at Ryan, and Ryan feels like he really should have left a long time ago, because Shane clearly thinks the moratorium on respecting Ryan's drunken shame has passed and he’s quickly on his way to gently but thoroughly roasting Ryan for it. 

As they step out of Shane's room, Ryan heard a low whistle come from what he's guessing is the kitchen, and turns to see a man with aggressively curly hair standing at the counter, one hand on his hip and the other brandishing a knife. Ryan really hopes that this is an unmentioned housemate and not a murderer, ‘cause he really would've liked to kiss Shane at least once before bleeding to death on the floor of his apartment. 

“Ay qué rico! Shane, who is this delicious stranger you've brought into our home?” As he says this, the man points the knife at Shane in a playfully aggressive way, but keeps his eyes on Ryan, roving up and down his body and smirking in a knowing way at him. Ryan vaguely thanks whoever’s out there watching over him that this does seem to be an unmentioned housemate and not a murderer, but he's also thinking about the fact that whoever this person is can probably very clearly tell that he's wearing Shane's clothes. The thought sends a little shiver of excitement through Ryan. 

Ryan takes a step toward him, moving to lift his arm for a handshake and introduce himself, but before any words can leave his mouth, he hears Shane make some sort of strangled noise and shoves Ryan softly but unceremoniously towards the door. 

“WELL, Ryan, it was very nice having you over, hope you enjoyed your time at Ché Madej, seeyousoonbye!” Shane announces this loudly to the room, as if he was trying to trying to stop any ensuing conversation in its tracks. He's still trying to guide Ryan in the direction of the door, because he's obviously somehow bothered by Ryan meeting his housemate, but his first mistake was letting it be known that he didn't want this to happen. 

His second mistake was saying Ryan's name as loud as he did, because now Shane's housemate was armed with that knowledge, and he and Ryan shared a very knowing and very mischievous look, both entirely on the same page without having to say a word. Ryan is more than happy to make Shane squirm, especially considering his embarrassing antics from last night were still very much fresh in his mind (though blurry, cause alcohol).

Ryan pivoted around, ducking smoothly under one of Shane's ridiculously long and flailing arms, rushing back over to the kitchen before Shane could catch him. He slid on his socked feet towards the man, sticking his hand out and grinning widely at him. 

“Hey, I'm Ryan, what's your name and why doesn't Shane want me to know you?” 

The man grinned back at him, putting the knife down and taking Ryan's hand, but instead of shaking it he held it gingerly, raising it to his lips to smack a comically loud smooch on the back of it. “Hola, papi. I’m Curly, and Shane doesn't want you to know me because I'm spicier than him in every way and will steal you away before he's even had the chance to lock it down.” 

Ryan laughs, loud and bright and unrestrained, and looks over at Shane, who's buried his face in his hands and might be whispering prayers to himself that this isn't really happening. “Please, Curly, I beg you, do not do this to me. Literally no good can come from you two knowing each other.” 

Though Shane's face is slowly flushing pink with embarrassment, his tone and the tiny smile he's trying to keep off his face lets Ryan know this is just part of the bit, and he's not prodding too hard at a real sore spot. 

Next to him, Curly leans in, raising a hand as if to hide his words from being seen. He lowers his voice conspiritally and mock-whispers to Ryan, “You know, I taught this little white boy everything he knows. He thought that salt and pepper were the only seasonings you need. When I asked him if he knows and likes any Latinx music, his answer was literally the Macarena. The most tragic part is that he really meant it.” 

Curly leans even closer, clutching the edge of the counter as if to brace himself for what he was about to say. “Ryan, this sweet little L.A.M.B. wasn't even washing his legs before he met me. He wasn't even moisturizing. When I say I taught him everything, I mean it. I turned this white boy into the white man he is today.” 

By this point, Ryan is nearly crying tears of laughter, and Shane's whole face and neck are a deep red that give away exactly how mortified he is. Curly seems nearly unaffected, the smug smile on his face the only thing giving away how amused he is.

It's extremely refreshing for Ryan to see Shane with his feathers so ruffled; Shane doesn't ruffle easily, because he's a genuinely laid back guy who cares very little about what other people think of him. Shane's been ruffling Ryans feathers and winding him up since before they even spoke to each other, so it's a treat to see him so affected. Ryan can tell he's very much going to enjoy knowing Curly. 

Ryan's still cracking up, clutching at his stomach with his eyes closed as he laughs, so he doesn't notice that Shane's moved into the kitchen until he's being physically lifted up. Shane's grabbed him from behind, his arms, which seem way too gangly to be this strong, wrapped around Ryan's waist, and Ryan's being physically carried towards the door before he can even process it.

When he does, he chokes on his laughter, sputtering as he realizes just how hot that is, the way Shane's just hauled him around like he was nothing. He feels his face flush warm, and he knows he’s probably giving Shane a run for his money in the blushing department, because Curly starts laughing, and this time it's definitely at Ryan and not with him. 

Shane sets him down by the door, giving him just enough space to put his shoes on, but only just enough. He's huddled up right in front of Ryan, leaning over him as if to prevent him from running away again towards Curly to cause more trouble. Ryan gulps and starts putting on his shoes with shaky hands; two seconds ago he was so thankful to have met Curly, and now he's suddenly wishing Curly weren't there at all, cause the sexual tension in the room feels so strong that Ryan's nearly choking on it. 

Finally, his shoes are on, and he waves a silent goodbye at Curly over Shane’s shoulder. He turns in the small space that Shane's allowed him to face the door, and when he steps back to let it swing open, Shane doesn't move at all, letting Ryan’s entire body press back into him. Ryan steps forward and out of the door, even though all he wants to do is turn right back around and drag Shane all the way back to his bedroom. Or let Shane drag him, either way.

The air outside of the apartment is blessedly unburdened with sexual tension, and when Ryan turns around to face Shane, Shane no longer has that intensity in his face, giving Ryan the same open look he always does. He closes the door behind him, giving them a moments’ privacy from Curly, and rubs sheepishly at the back of his neck. 

“So I should probably tell you, I've got a housemate. His name’s Curly, and he's a little eccentric and a lot fabulous, and he's probably going to say some really stupid shit designed to embarrass me in front of you.” 

Ryan smiles up at Shane, painfully endeared and unfortunately still a little turned on by him. “He sounds great, when can I meet him?” 

Shane gives him a close lipped smile, and he still looks a bit mortified, but Ryan doesn't know if it's from what Curly said or the caveman way Shane reacted to it. Ryan really doesn't want Shane to actually feel lasting embarrassment or anxiety from this, so he reaches out, gripping Shane's wrist in a show of comfort that's still passingly platonic. 

“Hey, you know I don't actually care about any of that shit, right? I'm about the biggest nerd on the planet, there's nothing to be embarrassed about around me. Like, seriously, I'm scared of wind and think Paddington is the best movie that I've ever seen. Don't stress,” Ryan reassures him gently, inching closer without trying to project ‘I HAVE A MASSIVE CRUSH ON YOU, YOU ABSOLUTE BEANPOLE’ too hard. 

Shane smiles down at him, a real smile this time, and briefly takes Ryan's hand to give it a squeeze before pulling away quickly. “I hope you did actually enjoy last night, and today, in spite of the epically bad hangover. I'll see you when you get back from your parents’, yeah? Library date?” Shane shoots some finger guns at him, playing it off as a joke, and Ryan allows it. 

“Yeah, big guy. I'll see that massive head of yours later. Thanks for everything, again.” Ryan gives Shane one last big grin, forcing himself to walk away before they spend the rest of the day smiling at each other in front of Shane's apartment. 

His heart’s beating far too fast in his chest, and when he throws a brief glance back at Shane to see him watching Ryan walk away, it beats impossibly faster. 

Just a moment ago, Ryan was blissfully enjoying seeing Shane in such an affected state, feathers all the way ruffled. He should've known that it wouldn't be long at all until the tables turned, because he's so far gone on this man that just about everything about him winds Ryan up in the best way possible. 

And Ryan would really take Shane anyway he could get him, unwashed legs and all. That thought should be scarier than it is, but as Ryan walks across town wearing Shane's clothes, a smile on his face from Shane's laugh, all he feels is comforted.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a little update for y'all! I don't have much time for writing so I know I'm being real inconsistent but I hope you guys enjoy! 
> 
> Last time I updated I changed the rating cause there's some stuff which is like sexually suggestive but nothing explicit (yet) so I guess let me know if that's the appropriate rating or not? Also, I can't figure out how to out italics in the text cause when I copy/paste it into AO3 they disappear. Help me pls lol
> 
> As always I'd love to write some prompt fills for y'all if anyone's interested! My tumblr is professionalyoungwoman :) I hope you guys enjoy and please let me know what you think!

When Ryan pulls into the driveway of his parents’ house, his mom is already waiting on the front porch for him, as excited to see him as ever. She acts like this every time he comes home for a visit; like he's been away for years, and goes to college on the other side of the country. Ryan pretends to be annoyed, but he secretly loves the attention, and not so secretly loves the piles of food she always heaps on him during each visit. 

He climbs out of his car and quickly moves to wrap her in a big hug, and she smells like home, her embrace making him feel small, precious and cradled, despite how small she is herself. Ryan lets out a deep exhale that he didn't know he was holding, letting some of the tension he’s seemingly always carrying out. As much as Ryan loves his life at Chapman, loves his friends and his classes and his shitty house, it'll never quit feel like this.

Ryan drops the embrace and follows his mom as she starts towards the house, and the whole time she's muttering about how he looks so skinny, that he needs to take better care of himself, that he needs to make sure he's feeding himself and getting enough rest. He rolls his eyes behind her back, huffing out a small laugh as she continues her rant all the way into the living room. 

His dad and his brother Jake are there, his dad tilted ridiculously far back in a recliner, and Jake’s sprawled out on the couch next to him. ESPN plays quietly in the background on the TV; some golf tournament is on, and while none of them actually follow golf in the slightest, no one changes the channel. ESPN is kind of a Bergara household staple.

Before Ryan can shove Jake over on the couch to force himself into a spot, before he can even get out a greeting, their two dogs, Miki and Dori, come charging full speed at Ryan, yipping up at him and scrambling up his legs, desperate for his attention. He laughs brightly, bending down to scoop them both up, letting them bathe his face in doggy kisses despite how gross it probably (definitely) is. 

One time, at the end of his sophomore year of college, Ryan had convinced TJ, Mark, and Devon to take a road trip up to Willow Creek with him on a misguided Bigfoot hunt. They found no evidence of the Foot, but they did stumble upon a local campground, where some very amused locals invited them to join their campfire. Long after all the locals had abandoned the fire, the four of them sat under the breathtaking night sky. Ryan had never seen stars like that in his life, and the conversation turned personal and introspective under the quiet presence of such remarkable natural beauty. 

As they talked, Mark, who is hardly ever openly expressive, let alone touchy feely, had confessed that he was really nervous to go home next week for summer break. He said that he had changed so much since he left home two years ago, had changed so much since he last visited for Christmas, had changed so much that he felt like a different person. Every time he went home, Mark was worried about how he should act, how his parents would act. He was worried that he'd revert back into who he used to be, that putting himself back in that environment would make him act and think the way he used to. He was worried that home wouldn't feel like home anymore.

Ryan was extremely sympathetic towards Mark, and so thankful that they were all close enough with each other to trust each other with these kinds of things. But while Ryan really was sympathetic, he never got the same feeling whenever he was faced with going home. Ryan loved going home; he loved the knowledge that he had changed as a person, and his parents would get to see how much he had grown and how much he had learned. He was never stressed about going home because going home for Ryan felt easy. It felt like a weight off of his shoulders, like he could relax and let all the responsibility that came with being a functioning and semi-self-sustaining adult be carried by someone else, if only for a moment. It felt like going back to a somewhat simpler time in his life, when his worries were centered around passing art, or crushing on the cute boys on his team or the pretty girls in his classes, instead of what he was going to do with the rest of his life, and how he would ever be financially stable and independent. 

Ryan knew he was lucky to have such a supportive and amazing family, and after they had all had dinner together, sharing life updates and retelling old stories, he felt himself getting a little misty eyed over just how blessed he really was. His mom noticed, of course, because she notices everything, and after his dad and Jake had wandered off to resume watching TV, she sat down next to him at the dinner table, scooting close to him and ruffling his hair. 

“Is something wrong, darling?” she asked, leaning close so their voices didn't carry into the living room. Ryan shook his head, giving her a smile that was unforced and genuine. 

“I'm just glad to be home, even if it's just for tonight. I'm really lucky, you know?” 

His mom gave him a big grin, squeezing his arm tightly before taking a hold of the hand he had rested on the table. “You seem so happy, happier than you usually are. You haven't even mentioned class or homework when that's usually the first thing you complain about. Has something changed? Have you met someone?” 

Ryan groaned, rolling his eyes for the second time that night at his mom. She was way too perceptive, and she had no right to see right through him the way she did. Knowing she was going to keep digging and picking at him until he answered, Ryan put up no fight in answering her question.

“Yeah, I have. We're not dating or anything, but…” Ryan trailed off, a feeling of uncertainty settling in him as he spoke. His mom instantly picked up on it, leaning even closer. 

“But what?” 

“It's just… Ok, I've rushed into a lot of relationships before, you know this, and I always get too far ahead of myself too quickly and somehow mess things up. And I really like this guy, and it feels like I've known him forever, and I'm pretty sure he likes me too, but I'm just, like, terrified. Like I'll finally get together with him and then I'll mess things up again and be broken hearted, but like, ten times worse than normal, cause I really, really like him. Like, it might be unhealthy. So I've just been trying to take things really slowly even though I don't want to, trying not to rush in, so he knows exactly what he's getting into.” 

His mother waits out his little bout of emotional word vomit, the whole time keeping a hold of his hand and smiling gently with that knowing look in her eyes. When Ryan's done, she gives another squeeze to his hand, and nods reassuringly. She hesitates for a moment, before answering. 

“Honey, I think that you might be wrong about something.” For a terrifying moment, Ryan irrationally thinks she's about to tell him that there's no way Shane likes him back, before she continues, “The reason it didn't work out with those other people before isn't because you did something wrong. It's because they weren't the right person for you. When you find the right person, everything just kind of falls into place. If you want to take things slowly, then take things slowly, but don't do it because you're afraid of messing up.”

For a moment she pauses, raising a hand to Ryan's face and turning it slightly so that his eyes lift from the woodgrain of the table and instead lock with hers. “Love is easy. Sure, relationships are hard, but love? Easy. Don't over complicate it by being afraid of something that hasn't happened yet. If he's the right person for you, then it'll work out. And if things don't work out and he's not the right person for you, then you get to keep trying until you find the one who is.” 

Ryan feels himself getting misty eyed again, and he thanks his mom by pulling her into a hug, burying his face in her hair. She holds him tightly, only letting him go when he starts pulling away. She stands and resumes cleaning up after dinner, leaving him at the table to have a moment to himself. When he feels ready, he gets up, dropping a quick kiss on the top of her head as he moves towards the living room to say goodnight to his dad and Jake. It's still early, but Ryan can feel the weight of his mother's words on his mind, and while he's not necessarily sad, he's not feeling his most social. 

As Ryan lays in bed, his mother's words rolling through his mind, he thinks over his relationship with Shane. He thinks about how different he is to anyone Ryan has ever met before. He thinks about how good he feels when Shane is around, even when he's purposefully annoying the shit out of Ryan. He thinks about how much he trusts Shane, how much he wants Shane in his life. And he thinks a lot about how easy his whole relationship with Shane had been, how easily this man had slipped into his life as if he'd always been there. 

Ryan decides then and there that he's done waiting. He's not going to do anything drastic right now, or tomorrow, or probably any time soon, but he's done waiting. He's done waiting for his fears to go away, and he's done waiting for the time to feel right.

Before drifting off into sleep, he decides to take a baby step into these new waters, and he sends Shane a quick text, which simply reads: Looking forward to our library date when im back :)

Ryan falls asleep with a smile on his face and a new hope in his chest.

…

When Ryan arrives at the library, Shane is already there, waiting for him at the base of the long set of steps that lead to the entrance. Shane looks up at him as he walks up, and instantly bounces to his feet, giving Ryan a smile so bright it honestly puts the sun beaming overhead to shame. Before Ryan can say anything, Shane holds up a hand in indication to wait, then opens his bag and starts rifling around. Ryan amusedly watches him, and after a brief moment of rustling, Shane turns back to him, triumphantly holding out what appears to be jelly beans, wrapped in a clear gift bag with a bow at the top. Ryan, despite himself, let out a bright giggle, half confused and half pleased that Shane's brought him something. 

“What the fuck, dude? Why?” Ryan's still beaming from ear to ear, and gently takes the bag out of Shane's still outstretched hand. 

“Well, my momma taught me you should never show up to a date empty handed, and you didn't really seem like a flowers and chocolates kind of guy.” Shane says this with the most genuine smile on his face, and he's holding Ryan's gaze with a calm confidence that in no way portrayed the weight of what he just said. Ryan instantly flushes, and the warmth in his cheeks is so much hotter than the sun on his face that he knows for a fact that Shane can see his blush. 

Ryan says, “Shut up, Shane,” but there's no heat in it at all, only a fondness that he really should be embarrassed about, but fuck it; if Shane can have the confidence to outright call this a date, then he can have the confidence to say ‘shut up’ like what he really means is ‘I think I might be completely ass-over-tits falling for you’. 

As they walk up the stairs into the library, Shane starts up a rant about how much work he has to get done, and this massive project on Ben Franklin he should've started weeks ago, and Ryan nods and hums when he thinks is appropriate, but he's hardly listening. He's too busy looking up at Shane, who looks ridiculously good in the sunlight, and he's too busy remembering his Mom’s advice.

Several hours later, and Ryan has accomplished basically nothing. He's got his laptop and a heap of research notes in front of him that he occasionally pretends to highlight and read over, but he's mainly just alternating between looking out the window at the beautiful day outside, and staring at Shane while he works. He was just thinking about how strange it is that Shane hasn't noticed or commented on his incessant staring when Shane lets out a heavy sigh, closes the books in front of him, and lifts his gaze to look at Ryan with a wry smile on his face that says he was getting away with approximately nothing.

“Let's get out of here. You're not getting anything done and it's very hard to read about how Ben Franklin was probably in a sex cult when you're staring at me like that.” 

Ryan, who's refusing to be caught off guard and embarrassed for a second time that day, quickly shoots back, “Sorry, I was just wondering how you ended up with such an enormous head. Like, was it like this your whole life or has it been slowly growing overtime? Has anyone asked you to participate in any scientific studies? Cause they really should.”

Shane laughs shortly, smirking down at Ryan before he replies, “Actually, my big head is perfectly proportional to the rest of my body. Big head, big everything.” He says it with that same calm confidence which he'd spoken with earlier, and the only thing which gives away the innuendo is the knowing smirk, a sly wink, and a heated look in his eyes. Ryan chokes on his own spit and nearly trips down the stairs of the library. Shane starts cracking up, laughing in a way that says Ryan interpreted his words in exactly the right way.

Ryan's too flustered to say anything else, and he ends up awkwardly trailing Shane as they walk across campus. He's close to just dismissing himself to escape back to his house where he can obsess over both his embarrassment and the size of Shane's dick in the privacy of his own home when Shane stops suddenly. 

They're on one of the small, grassy fields that are dotted around campus, and usually on days like today, they're covered end to end with students, but Shane's managed to lead them to the perfect spot. No one else is within hearing range, and they're under a tree that gives them just enough shade without entirely blocking out the sun. Shane collapses to the ground, chucking his backpack to the side and sprawling out on his back. Ryan, who's still pretty flustered, just looks down at the length of him spread out, mind going a million miles an hour as he ponders over just how he got himself into this mess. 

Shane reaches a lazy hand up, grabs his hand, and firmly pulls him down into the grass beside him. Ryan complies, laying out next to him until they're both gazing up at the leaves above them. “Stop thinking so loudly, buddy, you're gonna hurt yourself,” Shane says this gently, and punctuates it with a squeeze to Ryan's hand. He'd hardly noticed the hold hadn't been broken. He doesn't move his hand, just lets himself squeeze back as he tries to follow Shane's advice.

“So tell me about this project you're working on. I swear you said something about a sex cult earlier?” 

“Are you sure you wanna hear about it? Ol’ Ben was a dirty, dirty man, and when I say dirty, I mean real fucking dirty.” 

Ryan rolls his eyes at Shane, gesturing with his free hand for him to go on. “Well, Ryan, have you ever heard of Sir Francis Dashwood and the Friars of Saint Francis of Wycombe? No? Well, Dashwood was this wealthy son of a merchant in 18th century France who was truly a...horny boy, I guess you could say. His story starts with his grand tour, which is meant to be like a rite of passage, and I know you're probably imagining bar mitzvahs and quinceañeras, but it was really more of a lad’s trip around Europe where he basically did the dirty with fancy European ladies left, right, and center. He actually even lied about his identity in order to sleep with the actual empress of Russia! Anyway, when he eventually got back to France, he started up this crazy sex cult, and that's where Ben Franklin comes in.” 

Ryan kept his eyes trained on Shane as he told the story, laughing uproariously and interrupting him when he said something that was so wild it couldn't go without comment. They spent the rest of the afternoon like that; lying in the grass, holding hands, and telling each other stories. Ryan couldn't remember the last time he felt so happy.


End file.
